Dreamcatcher
by emospritelet
Summary: Belle enters a dangerous world of dreams to find a way to bring Rumple and the others back from Neverland, and, as always, suffers for her man. Set after 2X22


Belle awoke slowly, a smile spreading over her face as she slid her hand across the bed beside her. Her searching fingers touched nothing but cold sheets and her eyes sprang open as she remembered that she was alone. She rolled onto her back with a sigh. Nights were the worst. She filled her days easily; she took care of Rumple's shop and his accounts, balanced his books and collected his rents, secretly wondering how he had ever had time for it all. Her duties at the library and at the Mayor's office took up the rest of her time, and she was rarely home before eight, eleven if she went over to Ruby's. Belle had resisted being Mayor despite Ruby and Leroy's encouragement and had instead suggested that they set up a town Council. The Council consisted of herself, Ruby, Granny, Archie, Mother Superior and Leroy, but she noticed how often they seemed to look to her for leadership, despite the fact that she was youngest. There had been a lot of work to do after the others had left, but things had now settled into a routine. She had gone to see her father, to try to make things up with him, but his unrestrained joy at having Rumple out of the way irritated her, and when he suggested that she might want to move on and find someone else she stormed out, slamming the door. She spent some time with Ruby, who was teaching her to drive and to cook unfamiliar dishes. The two of them had even gone to the Rabbit Hole a few times, but Belle was reluctant to stay too long: the place reminded her of Lacey and she was ashamed of how she had acted. Belle's nights were still her own. She missed Rumple dreadfully; she felt as though someone had reached into her chest and torn out a piece of her heart, and yet she still had to go on day to day, when at times all she wanted to do was curl up in a ball and weep. The first night at his house had been terrible. She had sat in oppressive silence, trying to read, but all she could concentrate on was the absence of him, the empty chair across from her, the unopened whisky bottle, the motionless spinning wheel. The house itself contained numerous clocks, and after the first night Belle had gone around them all and stopped them; the constant ticking away of the endless minutes and hours that they were apart was unbearable. And yet, she refused to go back to her own apartment. They had been together again, for the briefest of moments, and she wanted to pretend that at any minute he would walk through the door. She stretched and sighed, folding her hands behind her head. She had been dreaming of their first night together; he had been nervous, hesitant, as though he were afraid to touch her, and she had had to physically take his hands and put them on her hips as she had stretched up to kiss him. Afterwards, he had held her close, kissing her forehead gently, and had whispered that he would never again be stupid enough to tell her to leave. And yet he was the one that had left; left seemingly with no way of returning. Nights could be pleasant, when the dreams were like this. Mostly, however, they were dark and disturbing, dreams where she ran up to him and he bent his head to kiss her, only to be snatched away by the black, formless mass of some unknown horror while she screamed his name. She woke from those dreams gasping, her heart pounding, searching frantically for him in the darkness before the pain of realising he was not there sank in once more. Belle picked her watch up from the bedside table and saw, with a grimace, that it was approaching four-thirty. _High time to be up and about_, she thought wryly. She gazed up at the ceiling, thinking. There had to be a way to get him back, to get all of them back, if she could only find it. A slow smile spread across her face as she realised where to start looking.

Once she had dressed, she started poking through the piles of books in his study. She knew that there were others in the shop that she could look into once she had gone through those at the house, and she began to familiarise herself with the contents, making a list of the major themes in each as she went, for future reference. She had a feeling that she would need to refer to them again before long. Many of Rumple's books mentioned travel between worlds, but frustratingly most of them merely stated that it was next to impossible without some sort of catalyst, such as a magic bean. Belle drank tea absent-mindedly as she read, the day turning to night as she sat curled in the leather armchair, a growing pile of books beside her. It was after midnight when she slowly closed the heavy volume in her lap with the ghost of a smile on her face.

Belle called an impromptu meeting of the town Council at Granny's the next day, Ruby pulling a couple of tables together to seat them all. Leroy had settled into his job as acting sheriff and had roped in the other dwarfs as back-up, in between their shifts in the mine and some well-earned rest. There seemed to be little trouble in the town since they had cast the cloaking spell, but patrols were still sent to the town line as a precaution. Belle cleared her throat as Ruby carried a tray of coffees and doughnuts to the table, and they all looked at her expectantly.

"I've been thinking about how we might get them all back home," she began. "I know we have no idea what's happening over there, wherever they are, but I think we can assume that they're on Henry's trail and I'm hoping, now that three of them have magic to help…" She left the sentence unfinished, and looked at the others, who nodded grimly.

"So how do we get them back?" asked Archie. "There has to be a way."

"We don't have any beans yet," pointed out Leroy. "Tiny's working on grafting the beanstalk in Regina's office, but it's gonna take time we don't have, even with magic to help. Weeks, at least, maybe months, to grow new ones. We'll need to find something else."

Belle ran her fingers through her hair. "Rumple always said travel between worlds was the hardest thing to do," she said. "It took him centuries to get here, but that was because this world didn't have magic."

Leroy looked thoughtful. "So now that it does, we could use a magical object, like Jefferson's hat," he suggested, gesturing with his doughnut and scattering sugar over the table.

"Which would be great, if we had one," added Ruby. "But we don't."

Leroy shrugged. "Maybe we can find one," he said, biting into the doughnut, and Ruby gave him a flat look, folding her arms.

"What, just lying around waiting to be picked up?" she asked sarcastically. Leroy glared at her, chewing furiously, but Belle held up a hand.

"There may be a way," she said slowly. "I've been reading Rumple's books, and one of them mentions a land of dreams, where if you enter in your sleep, you can find a way to cross magical realms."

Mother Superior started, and looked worried. "Belle, consider this carefully," she warned. "There's a reason Rumplestiltskin didn't take that option. The realm of Morpheus is a dangerous place."

Belle turned to her eagerly. "He didn't take it because it wouldn't have done any good," she said urgently. "One of the things Morpheus can grant is passage between magical realms; Rumple wouldn't have wanted that, he only wanted to get to _this _world, before magic was here. I think I can do this! I can get them all back here!"

Mother Superior sighed, and looked at her sorrowfully. "This will be hard, child," she said gently. "You may not survive. Ask yourself if it's worth it."

"He's my true love," said Belle obstinately. "Of course it's worth it! And the rest of them – Emma saved us from the curse. Snow and Charming fought for all of you back home. Regina even saved this town from destruction. And there's Henry to consider. They're all worth the risk."

"Except maybe Hook," grunted Leroy. Archie and Ruby exchanged troubled looks, and Mother Superior smiled wanly.

"You will need the amulet of Hypnos to enter," she said. "I've no doubt Mr Gold has it somewhere, if anyone does. If you're determined to do this, we can watch over you, but we won't be able to interfere."

"But if she enters in her dreams, she'll just be sleeping, won't she?" asked Ruby, puzzled, and Mother Superior grimaced.

"It may be a land of dreams," she said gravely, looking at Belle. "But the dangers are very real. Injuries there will affect you here. I don't exaggerate when I say you may not survive. You must be strong and hold to your purpose."

"I can do it," said Belle firmly. "I'll find the amulet. Show me what needs to be done."

The next day, Belle, Ruby, Leroy and Mother Superior gathered in the back room of Gold's shop. Belle had found the amulet she sought mixed with a dozen others in a wooden box on one of the shelves. She had smiled fondly and shook her head, amused at Rumple's tendency to hide powerful objects in plain sight. The amulet was flat and circular with a hole at the centre, hanging from a silver chain. It was made of ivory on one side and what looked like polished horn on the other, each face carved with a ring of poppies. She had decided to begin her journey in the shop; the small single bed by the spinning-wheel would be sufficient for her purposes. Leroy and Ruby dragged two chairs near the bed and settled themselves down beside her, but Mother Superior stood, looking anxious, tapping her fingertips together. Belle slowly lifted the silver chain over her head, the amulet hanging between her breasts. It felt much heavier now that she was wearing it, almost pulling at her, trying to drag her down. She took a deep breath and sat down on the bed, looking up at them nervously.

"What must I do?" she asked, surprised at how calm she sounded.

"When you fall asleep, you will enter the land of dreams," said Mother Superior, her gaze intent and troubled. "I can't tell you what it will look like, as the journey is different for everyone that enters. What I can tell you is that it will try to pull you from your purpose, to sap your strength and destroy your resolve. You must remain strong, stay calm, and be true to yourself."

"Will I be asleep long enough to get what I need?" asked Belle, and the fairy sighed.

"You will return with what you seek, or you will not return at all," she said gently.

"Belle…" began Ruby, anxiously, but Belle shook her head.

"I'm doing this," she said firmly. "I won't leave him, not again." She lay back on the bed, folding her hands around the amulet and closing her eyes.

"We'll be here for you," whispered Ruby, squeezing her arm. Mother Superior swept her wand over Belle's face; she inhaled deeply, the room seeming to spin around her, and tumbled into blackness.

She found herself standing in a cave, dry stone and fine, powdery dust underfoot. The place had a musty, ancient smell that was slightly unpleasant, and Belle ran her hands over herself, surprised to find that her clothes had changed. The amulet still hung around her neck, but she was now wearing soft leather trousers, knee boots and a crimson velvet tunic, a long knife belted at her waist. There was a dim light ahead of her along a tunnel and she moved towards it slowly, looking back over her shoulder but seeing nothing but bare rock behind. She walked out of the tunnel into a wide, high room, richly furnished with tapestries and thick rugs. Large stone pots, full of red poppies, stood around the floor, giving off a heavy, soporific scent that made her want to yawn. There were plush, gold-embroidered sofas, daybeds and cushions, small tables containing flagons of wine and bowls of ripe fruit, all surrounding a raised daïs at the opposite end. A man was seated on a throne in the middle; the throne appeared to have been made of carved stone in a green so deep it was almost black.

"Another traveller," he said warmly, his voice melodious. He was tall, with the most beautiful face that Belle had ever seen on a man, finely chiselled features, high cheekbones and shapely lips with large, pale blue eyes. His skin was white, his hair the palest blond and ramrod-straight, hanging down past his shoulders, and he was dressed in shades of dark blue and silver. Belle was reminded of a clear night sky when the stars were at their brightest. He was smiling down at her, but she felt afraid; she sensed coldness and cruelty in him, hidden behind his wide eyes and sensual mouth. She raised her chin to look him full in the face, steeling herself.

"I'm guessing you're Morpheus," she said, pleased that her voice was steady, and his eyebrows twitched in surprise as he inclined his head.

"Indeed I am," he said gently. "But you have the advantage of me."

"Belle," she said, unwillingly, and he smiled slowly.

"You are seeking something, child," he said calmly, and Belle restrained herself from rolling her eyes with difficulty. _Obviously_. He raised his head, inhaling deeply, and she watched him warily as he stood up and got down from the daïs, moving sinuously, like a dancer, long legs in black leather boots straightening until he stood almost two feet taller than she. Belle squared her jaw as he cupped her face with cold hands, looking her over.

"I have seen many travellers pass through this realm," he said pleasantly. "Some sought power, some riches. What is it that motivates you?"

"Love," she said simply, and he rolled his eyes.

"How incredibly dull!" he drawled. "Inaccurate, too, I'd say." He breathed in again, smacking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, as though tasting the air around her. "You are seeking a great, dark power," he said, with some relish, and she shook her head.

"Sorry to disappoint you," she said bluntly. "I'm seeking my true love."

"How interesting," he purred, looking over her face. "You even believe that. And yet I sense a yearning in you. You are drawn to darkness, are you not?" He pressed his cool cheek to hers, his lips on her ear, making her shudder. "I imagine you've tasted it already," he whispered, and placed his long fingers across the top of her head. Belle's breathing quickened; she thought that she could almost feel him searching through her mind.

"Yeessss!" he breathed, and, to her horror, slowly licked her cheek. "The darkness is within you. But are those dreams, or memories? Either way, it's intriguing."

Belle pulled away, wiping her cheek with a disgusted look. "I came to you because I need a way to cross worlds," she said curtly. "I don't see that my personal life has anything to do with that." She felt an overwhelming urge to bathe.

He smiled at her, a predatory gleam in his eye. "Beautiful," he murmured. "Young. Brave too, or you wouldn't have come. I think you will do very well." He reached down to a small table, which held a silver tray carrying crystal decanters filled with what looked like wine, deep blood-red and the pale gold of summer sun glinting in the light of hundreds of candles. He poured a glass for her, but Belle shook her head, and his lips twitched in a half-smile as he placed the glass back on the tray.

"You wish to cross worlds," he said slowly, his voice indulgent. "Then you will need this." He gestured with his long fingers, and a large stone of deep red appeared between his thumb and forefinger. "This is the prize," he added softly. "And if you wish to collect it, I will give you the same two choices I give every traveller who comes here."

"Which are?" asked Belle, and he smiled again, the warmth not reaching his eyes.

"You can stay here, and have a drink with me," he offered, gesturing around the opulent room. "Or you can walk through that doorway." He pointed to a dark opening in the opposite wall, framed in ivory carved with moons, stars and swirling clouds. Belle eyed it uncertainly.

"What's through there?" she asked warily, and he chuckled, making the hairs stand up on the back of her neck.

"You will determine that, not I," he said, amused. Belle folded her arms.

"Stop speaking in riddles!" she snapped. "What do my choices involve, exactly? What do you mean, _I _determine what's out there?"

His eyebrows twitched in amusement, and he took a step closer to her.

"The world through that door is built from your own thoughts, your own hopes and fears, your own needs and desires," he explained. "It's always far more interesting than anything I could come up with. If you choose to go through the doorway, you will face a series of tests. I do not control the content, only the level of pain you must endure."

Belle swallowed hard, having vague, uncomfortable thoughts of spiders and enclosed spaces, but met his gaze.

"And at the end of it," she said. "I get what I've asked for?"

"Assuming you survive," he said gently, and she bit her lip uncertainly. He moved slowly to stand behind her, putting cold, heavy hands on her shoulders. She stiffened instinctively, wanting to pull away.

"Perhaps you'd be more comfortable here," he said softly, his breath against her neck, making her shiver. "It seems like a lot of unnecessary pain and suffering when you could stay with me and still get exactly what you want."

Belle pulled free, turning to face him.

"I know that magic always comes with a price," she said sardonically. "The price of staying here seems surprisingly low compared with your ominous door of unknown terrors." She looked him up and down. "What do _you_ get out of this little arrangement, exactly?"

"Entertainment," he shrugged, and Belle folded her arms beneath her breasts, eyeing him critically.

"You say you've had other travellers come through here," she said, and he nodded. "So where are the ones that opted to stay in this room?" she asked, arching an eyebrow. The cold smile again.

"They received what they asked for, and left," he said mildly, and she shook her head.

"You're not a very good liar," she said, with a grin. "Let me guess, you killed them? Possibly ate their brains or sucked their souls or ripped their still-beating hearts out. I'm willing to bet it was something disgusting like that, am I right?" Sometimes it was fun to channel Lacey. He was frowning now, brows drawn down low, the anger and cruelty she had known was there gleaming from his eyes. Her grin widened. "How many of them fell for this whole 'look how pretty and harmless I am' act?"

"You ask a lot of questions!" he snapped, all pretence gone, and she laughed.

"I don't recall you setting a limit on questions, so that's something you might want to consider in future," she said pleasantly. "I believe three is traditional, but seven and nine are also magical numbers, so it's your call."

"Make your choice!" he grated, spreading his arms wide, long midnight-blue sleeves dangling from his pale, slender wrists. Belle laughed again.

"Easy," she declared, and turned on her heel towards the ivory doorway.

"Wait!" he barked, and she stopped, looking back at him. He held up the stone, and a fire pulsed within it, a bright red gleaming. "This will show you the way," he said sternly. "You must follow the stone if you are to emerge alive." He lifted his arm and threw the stone at the doorway, a red blur streaking past Belle into the blackness. Belle nodded her understanding, and he smiled again.

"Good luck," he said, as though he wished her anything but. Taking a deep breath, hand on her belt-knife, Belle strode purposefully into the doorway and was swallowed by the darkness.

She walked out into a narrow corridor with an arched roof only a few inches above her head. The floor was dry and dusty, but she could hear the trickle of water ahead. Belle strode forwards at a brisk pace, looking for the red stone but seeing only the empty corridor before her. She was beginning to think that this first test was not so bad when she heard a scuttling noise from behind her. Looking over her shoulder, she quickened her pace nervously, the noise growing louder. Belle started to jog, and then to run, but she could not outpace the noise. The corridor curved around to the left and it was then that she saw them, spiders the size of small horses scrabbling after her. Belle gasped in fear and sprinted as fast as she could, terror lending wings to her feet. She spied a change in the light up ahead, the corridor appeared to be opening out into a room, and she burst through into a small, round chamber. Her first, panicked thought was that this was a dead end, but then she saw the rope hanging down and the red stone shining far above her. Belle threw herself at the rope and began to climb, hearing the spiders growing ever closer. She gripped the rope tightly, walking up the sides of the stone walls, the coarse braid hurting her hands. She was halfway up when they reached her, swarming around her, large hairy legs poking at her and trying to make her fall. She was already tired, her heart thundering with exertion and fear, but she kicked out at them, sending one or two hurtling down to the floor again. The stone shone above her, tantalisingly close, and she heaved herself up over the top of the wall, wriggling free from the spiders and staggering to her feet, reaching for the stone…

…and gasped as sunlight hit her skin and the noises and smells of a busy market assailed her. She had painful red welts on her hands from the coarse rope, her fingernails were ragged and broken from scrabbling at the stone walls and her arms ached from the climb. When she looked down at herself, however, she saw that she was wearing a dress of pale green watered silk, the sleeves having long points hanging down over her hands. She gazed about her, taking in the people hurrying here and there, the cries of animals and distant music from a tavern on the edge of the square. The townsfolk dodged around her with murmurs of "my Lady", and she hurriedly recalled why she was there. She started to look around for the red stone, feet sweeping through the dust in thin slippers quite unsuited for a marketplace.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" A drawling voice made her jump and turn, and she saw three men dressed in the black uniform of the Queen's guards. They were gazing at her, smiling and looking her up and down insolently.

"Looks like an escaped prisoner to me," said one of the men to his companions. With a chill of fear she recognised him: Claude, one of the guards on her cell. A lecherous drunk, he had tried to grope her on several occasions before Regina had had him whipped and transferred him to other duties.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said haughtily, looking down her nose in the most supercilious manner she could adopt. "Now get out of my way, or I'll have you all flogged!"

The men laughed raucously.

"Told you she's a feisty one," said Claude to the others. "Might take all three of us to tame her, what do you say?" The others laughed again, and took a step forward. Belle looked around wildly, but the market square was emptying mysteriously, the townsfolk hurrying past and not meeting her eye. She turned back to the men, desperation in her face.

"Now come on, my pretty," said one of the men, soothingly. "We just want to take you back to the Queen. She'll reward us well, for delivering you."

"The Queen won't care what state she's in," announced Claude, his eyes gleaming. "I'll take my reward now, if it's all the same to you boys!" He lunged at Belle, and she dodged away with a shriek, stumbling over her long skirts as he grabbed her arm. Her breath was coming in ragged gasps as she was spun around and Claude backhanded her across the face. White light exploded in her head and she dropped like a stone, feeling the cold hardness of the damp ground against her cheek. Her focus returned as she felt hands on her body, and the numbing terror within was replaced by anger.

"The Dark One will kill you if you lay a hand on me!" she spat, struggling fiercely. "He'll kill you, and I won't stop him!"

The men howled with laughter.

"The Dark One won't save the likes of you, _milady_," scoffed Claude, "Now hold still." Pushing her onto her back, he pulled out his knife and slit her dress from neck to hem in one swift movement as the two others continued to laugh and jeer. He stuck the knife into the ground beside them, laughing with his companions.

"Take off the rest!" shouted one of them. "I've never seen a noblewoman in her skin before!" Claude hooted with merriment as he reached for her eagerly, and Belle seized her chance and snatched up the knife, stabbing down into the back of his shoulder. Claude reared upwards with a howl of agony, hands scrabbling at his back, and she took the opportunity to draw her knee up to her chest and kick forwards into his groin as hard as she could. He crumpled to his side, with a groaning gasp, out cold, and she scrambled to her feet. The other two had been struck dumb and motionless by her sudden, violent reaction, but now they moved, grabbing at her. She struggled wildly as they grasped her long sleeves, laughing as they held her arms back, preventing her from running. It was then that she saw the red light, shining over the door to the smithy. Her dress was completely open down the front, and Belle smiled. She suddenly bent forward, slipping her arms from the sleeves and shedding the torn dress like a coat, bursting free from the guards to sprint across the town square in her shift and stockings, the amulet bouncing painfully against her chest. Shouts were raised behind her, but the townsfolk turned aside, wanting no part of the chase. Belle raced to the smithy, ducking through the door into the warmth and darkness within…

…and ran into a dark, damp passageway, water running down the walls in rivulets, the ground slimy and unpleasant underfoot. She could hear the dripping sound of water ahead, and walked swiftly towards it, shivering in her underwear and hoping she would soon find something warmer. Her cheek was swollen and bruised where she had been hit, and she winced as she touched it. She wondered if the injuries she was sustaining would show on her body back in the shop, and hoped that the others weren't too worried. The passage opened out into a wide room with a door at the far end, over which hung the gleaming red stone. Belle heaved a sigh of relief. There were no monsters, no would-be rapists, nothing but the shiny floor ahead of her. She took a step forward, and gasped as the floor suddenly broke up into tiny, glittering pieces. Belle hesitated, revulsion growing in her as she saw what seemed to be an incalculable number of bugs and insects, the writhing bodies of millipedes, scuttling cockroaches and fat, squirming maggots. She hated bugs. She closed her eyes for a moment, steeling herself, and took a deep, calming breath.

"Just run," she said aloud. "Just run, and don't stop."

She launched herself at the floor, sinking into the thick layer of tiny bodies, crying out at the squishing sensations. It was difficult to run, to lift her feet with any speed, but she tried her hardest, legs pumping, wanting to cover as much ground as she could. The bugs seemed to throw themselves on her, squirming up her legs and over her buttocks, making her shriek in horror as they crawled up inside her shift. Cockroaches were scuttling up her neck, trying to push their way into her mouth as she reached the far end of the room and hurled herself, unseeing, at the door…

…and landed face-down, on dry, pungent earth. Instantly, Belle scrambled to her feet, brushing at herself hurriedly, but the bugs had gone and she was dressed, once more, in leather trousers and a velvet tunic with long boots. She stood for a moment, hands on her knees and head bowed, catching her breath, then straightened and looked around her. She was standing on a dirt path, hedges twice her height on either side, covered with long, cruel thorns. She heard a rustling noise somewhere behind her, and turned quickly.

"Time to move," she said quietly, and loped forward at an easy pace. She soon realised that she was in a maze; the hedges forked off at intervals and she chose a turning at random, jogging more quickly as the noise behind her grew louder. She reached a dead-end after three turns to the left, and hurriedly doubled-back, hoping she could turn off again before whatever was chasing her caught up. The rustling sound was almost upon her, and as she turned a corner she saw with horror that the hedge itself was closing in, branches growing out and reaching towards her, becoming larger and thicker, the thorns as long as her fingers. Belle swerved to the right, dodging through an opening and pulling herself free as thorns dug into her clothing. She gasped as she turned a corner and saw, with relief, the red stone ahead of her, lying on the ground about a hundred yards away. Belle broke into an all-out sprint as the branches flowed around her, trying to trip her, thorns cutting into her as she fought to free herself. There was still a clear way ahead, but it grew smaller and smaller until Belle was crawling on her belly, arms outstretched, crying out in pain as the thorns scratched into her skin. The stone was just ahead and she dragged herself free, blood trickling from her wounds, squeezing herself into a small, dark space free from the grasping branches…

…and crawled on her hands and knees on bare earth, open to the sky, the darkness around her merely that of night. Belle rolled onto her back and lay gasping, her chest heaving, her body stinging all over from the hundreds of scratches and her leg muscles aching tiredly from the running. Blood was seeping through the trousers and tunic, drying to an unpleasant stickiness, and she wanted desperately to wash and change her clothes. She rolled back onto her front and pushed herself wearily to her feet, staggering a little with tiredness. Looking around, she saw with surprise that she was in a graveyard, the squat, granite headstones of unknown souls in uneven rows around her. It was night, but the moon was almost full and gave plenty of light to her surroundings. Rain was falling hard, soaking her clothing, and she began to shiver as she looked around for the red stone that would show her the way to go. Suddenly a hand burst out of the ground in front of her, mud clinging to skeletal fingers. It grabbed at her ankle and Belle shrieked in fright, falling to the ground and skating backwards on her heels as fast as she could. Rough hands grasped her arms from behind and she cried out again, tearing free, her heart thumping with terror. The living dead were climbing from their graves all around her, glittering spectral lights searching for her from empty eye-sockets, wasted arms reaching out to grab her. She scrambled to her feet, backing away hurriedly, desperately looking for a weapon to fight them off until she could escape. She spied a shovel sunk into the earth to her left, and grabbed at it, stabbing at the dead shuffling towards her, dark mouths open with blackened teeth shining in the moonlight. She backed away, head casting about, still looking for a way out, and her foot stepped into thin air. Dropping the shovel, arms flailing uselessly, Belle toppled backwards and landed heavily on her ankle, crying out in agony as she hit the soft wet earth. She had fallen into a freshly dug grave, and the living dead crowded around the top, crawling in after her. Belle pulled herself up, hands digging into the sides of the grave, and desperately tried to climb out. Hands grabbed her, the stench of decay making her want to throw up, and she tore free, kicking and fighting as best she could. She managed to floor one of the dead with a well-aimed kick, and stepped on top of him immediately, kicking out at the others as she pulled herself up out of the grave. Belle slithered forwards on her belly in the wet mud, her heart hammering in fear, whimpering wordlessly, dead hands grasping at her ankles, and she screamed in pain and horror as she felt a bite on her leg. She spied the shovel to her right and lunged for it, thrusting it like a spear at the relentless dead, cutting into empty faces and decaying limbs. She managed to break free and crawled on her knees as fast as she could, shovel in her hand, and it was then that she saw the red stone gleaming over the graveyard gate. Belle almost wept with relief, but the dead seemed to gain new strength and speed, grabbing at her, scratching her painfully as they tried again to bite her. She hacked at them, severing hands, cutting into dead flesh, and managed to pull free and slide forwards on the wet grass, pushing herself to her feet with the shovel and limping towards the gate, her hand reaching out for the stone.

Belle stumbled into a wide room filled with bright colours and the scent of poppies, and took a moment or two to realise that she was back in Morpheus's throne room. She fell to her knees, her pain and tiredness overwhelming, and sobbed with relief.

"I did it," she whispered, dropping forwards onto her hands, tears splashing onto the thick carpet. She was covered in mud and scratches, her ankle was agony, and the bite on her leg was throbbing. Exhaustion was making her head spin, and she wanted desperately to lie down and sleep.

"Congratulations!" His voice was warm and comforting, and Belle raised her head to gaze at him, sitting on his throne at the end of the room. There was something beside the throne that had not been there before, a large bundle covered with shining, dark blue cloth, but she was too exhausted to be curious.

"You must be tired," he said kindly, waving a hand towards the tables scattered around the room. "Why don't you refresh yourself? The wine is particularly good."

Wearily, Belle pushed herself up, her body a mass of pain. Standing on her sprained foot was agony, but she forced herself to straighten and look him in the eye.

"Thank you," she said, with a politeness she did not feel. "But I think I'd rather take my prize and go."

There was a flicker of disappointment in his eyes, and she wondered what was in the wine.

"Very well," he shrugged, gesturing to the side. "Then all you need do is make a simple choice." With a flourish, the blue cloth was whipped to the side, and Belle gasped in shock and fear as the bound figure of her father was revealed.

"Papa?" she blurted, horrified, and he stared at her, his eyes almost starting from his head, breath coming in gasps.

"Belle?" he panted. "What's happening? Where are we?"

Belle limped forward, and Morpheus held up a hand, staying her.

"What have you done?" she demanded. "How did you get him here? This wasn't part of our deal!"

"And what makes you think I keep to my side of the bargains I make?" he drawled, smirking at her. "Where's the fun in that?"

"The Dark One has more honour than you," she spat, and he chuckled.

"The Dark One has far more opportunity for entertainment than I get," he replied, amused.

Belle wanted to weep with frustration, but raised her chin defiantly. "So what is the choice I must make?" she asked, afraid of his reply.

"Simple," he purred. "You can go home safely with your father, without the stone, or you take the stone, and leave him to his fate."

Her father's eyes bulged in fear. "Belle!" he begged, and she stared in horror, looking from him to Morpheus.

"No!" she cried. "I can't do this! You can't make me choose between my father and my lover!"

He shook his head slowly, tutting under his breath. "Really? But isn't that what you've already been doing? I think we know who's been winning so far. Not looking good for your poor father, is it?" He smiled widely, and she was about to issue a fierce retort, when she suddenly settled back on her heels, looking at him cynically.

"How do you know that?" she asked curiously. "More importantly, how did you bring my father here?"

"I am the Lord of Dreams," he said simply, and she shook her head.

"No," she said slowly. "You can't bring people here, they come here of their own accord. I needed an amulet to get here." She folded her arms. "I don't believe any of this is real," she said stoutly.

"Really?" he snapped, and thrust his hand downwards, fingers twisting in the air. Her father gave a cry of agony and began to writhe, straining against his bonds.

"No!" cried Belle, staggering forward. Morpheus glared at her.

"I thought it wasn't real!" he snapped tauntingly, hand curling into a claw and making her father bend backwards until Belle was sure his spine must be breaking. She covered her face with her hands.

"It's not real!" she sobbed. "It's not real, it's not real!"

"Belle!" gasped her father, and she bit her lips in agony and fear, looking up at him.

"I'm sorry, Papa!" she sobbed. "But I know it's not you!" She dashed tears from her eyes and suddenly saw a red flash, above Morpheus's head. _The stone._ She set her jaw in a grimace.

"I'm coming!" she shouted, limping forwards. "I'm coming for you, you bastard!" She broke into a shuffling run, dragging her injured leg, and Morpheus released her father, standing and spreading his arms with a wide smile, the long blue sleeves of his surcoat darkening. Belle reached the daïs, hands outstretched, reaching for the stone, and he broke apart into a thousand flapping, twitching bats, pitiless eyes searching and sharp mouths open, like tiny red wounds.

Belle shrieked as the bats swarmed over her, flailing with her fists at the leathery wings. Needle-sharp teeth bit at her, claws raking her skin, and she continued to scream, trying to cover her face. The wings seemed to grow larger, softer, engulfing her, and she wrenched at them, feeling thin bones snap beneath her hands as she struggled. She was still screaming, her hands scrabbling wildly, unable to see, but she was no longer being bitten or scratched. The wings grew larger still, and almost fluffy, like cotton or cloth, and her screams began to fade as she wriggled breathlessly. She tried to kick out, but her legs were trapped beneath something soft and she could barely move them.

"Belle?" Hands pawed at her and she cried out again in her panic, trying to wrench them away. The softness covering her was suddenly pushed aside and she was able to breathe and move her arms. She punched forwards instinctively, fist connecting with firm flesh, and her wrists were grabbed.

"Get off me!" she shrieked.

"Hey, hey, hey!" A familiar voice, soothing. Her struggles slowed as the room swam into focus. Rumple was looking down at her, bare-chested, the two of them lying beneath the heavy blankets of their bed. Belle stopped writhing at once, breathing heavily as she looked up at him. He released her wrists slowly, stroking her hair back from her face.

"You were having a nightmare," he said gently, and she let out a deep, shuddering breath, clinging to him. He held her close and she wanted to weep as she breathed in his familiar scent. Her pain was gone, all her cuts and bruises had disappeared, and for a moment she dared to believe that it _had_ all been a nightmare, that he had never left, that she was safe. He bent his head to kiss her and it was _his _kiss, warm and sweet and full of feeling. She melted against him, pushing her fingers through his hair, kissing him passionately, but as his hands moved over her waist and his chest pressed down on hers, she felt the cool ivory of the amulet against her skin. Her heart sank, and she broke free and pushed him away, shaking her head.

"You're not him," she said desolately. "You're just a – a trap for my mind!"

"What are you talking about?" he laughed, and reached for her again.

"You're not him!" she shouted, slapping his hands away, and he shushed her.

"Belle, be quiet, you'll wake Olivia!" he whispered, and rolled his eyes as a cry went up from somewhere nearby. She froze; it was the sound of a child, a baby. He sighed, kissed her forehead, and pushed himself out of bed to his feet. She watched him limp to the foot of the bed in dark blue silk pyjama bottoms, reaching down and lifting up a small, pink-clad bundle, cradling it in his arms. The baby's cries faded to a quiet mewling and hiccoughing as he spoke gently to it, making soft hushing noises. A small hand reached up and tugged at his hair, and he smiled and kissed the tiny fingers. Belle swallowed hard, scrambling out of bed in her nightdress, a shade of pink so pale it was almost white. She approached slowly, watching him, the soft lamplight gleaming on his skin as he rocked the baby back and forth. The light reflected off a gold band around the third finger of his left hand, and she unconsciously felt her thumb reach across the palm of her own hand, to touch the ring she knew she would find. Her lip trembled.

"We have a daughter," she said sadly, her voice thick with emotion, and he raised his head in surprise.

"Well, if she's not ours, I've had sleepless nights for the past six months for no reason," he said gently. He planted a kiss on the baby's cheek, making her gurgle with pleasure, and held her out to Belle. "Here, why don't you take her? I think she's hungry." Belle took the child in her arms, looking at him as he rearranged the blankets in her cot.

"How long have we been married?" she asked, and he smiled, straightening up.

"I haven't forgotten it's our anniversary next week," he said dryly. "Remember when you found out you were pregnant, and you said…"

"'You'll have to marry me now!'" she interrupted, and clapped her hand to her mouth in horror. She _remembered_; she could recall the look on his face when she had told him, their wedding day, the pain and joy of Olivia's birth. She tried desperately to concentrate on what she was doing, to remember that this was illusion.

His smile widened. "I'll make some tea while you feed her," he said.

"No!" she blurted, as he turned to leave. "Don't go yet." She had automatically started to rock the baby back and forth, as he had done, and she gazed down at her daughter. The baby stared back solemnly with deep blue eyes, her round, inquisitive face crowned with a mop of fine, dark hair. "Olivia," she whispered. She stroked the baby's hand, and the tiny pink fingers curled around hers, gripping tightly. Her eyes began to sting, tears flowing over her cheeks.

"Belle, what is it?" His hand on her shoulder, his closeness. She wanted to sink into his arms, to stay there always. It would be so easy to accept the dream for reality, to stay with him, with their daughter. She tore herself away.

"Send me the bats again!" she sobbed, looking around wildly. "Send me the rapists, or the living dead, anything but this!"

"Sweetheart, what are you talking about?" He pulled her around to face him, and she fell against his chest, weeping. The baby twitched and grumbled in her arms as Rumple embraced them both. He kissed her forehead gently, and she pushed back a little so she could look up at him.

"I want this!" she said sorrowfully. "Why does everything have to be so hard, Rumple? Why can't we just be happy?"

"Aren't you happy?" he asked anxiously. "I thought this was everything you wanted. Belle, I know I'm – difficult – but I do love you. If there's anything I can do to make it better, you have to tell me."

She opened her mouth to speak, to reassure him, and saw, with mounting dread, the flash of red over his shoulder, outside the bedroom window against the dark backdrop of the night sky. She wept anew, tears streaming down her face, and handed their daughter back to him. She bent to kiss the tiny head, breathing in the scent of baby powder, her tears splashing on the soft hair. When she straightened up he was watching her worriedly, and she reached up to touch his face, kissing him deeply, pressing her forehead against his as their lips parted.

"I love you," she whispered. "I love you both, and I'll see you again."

She turned away, glaring at the grim red light shining through the window, hating it.

"Belle, don't go!" he begged. "Look at me!"

She took a deep breath, feeling as though her heart would break, and hit the window at a run, glass shattering and cutting into her flesh as the cold winter air tore at her.

She landed on her belly, the impact knocking the wind from her, and lay for a long moment with her face pressed to the cold, stone floor, weeping uncontrollably. Her injuries had returned in an instant and her body was a solid mass of agony; blood streaked the ground from a thousand cuts and scratches, but the damage to her mind and heart was far worse.

"You passed the tests." His voice had a hint of surprise, and Belle's grief was replaced with anger. She raised her head slowly, her eyes flashing murderously.

"You bastard!" she spat. "I could kill you for that!"

"I told you, I don't control the content," he said lazily. "You choose what is most unbearable." He smiled down at her coldly, and held out his hand. Belle ignored it, pushing herself to her feet with what felt like the last ounce of her strength and glaring at him. The amulet swung heavily around her neck; that was still safely in her possession, but a quick swipe of her thumb across the fingers of her left hand confirmed that the ring had disappeared, and somehow that hurt more than her bruised and lacerated skin. Morpheus watched her curiously.

"I must say I enjoyed watching myself in your little adventure," he remarked. "I get to see that so rarely. I knew you and I had a special connection."

"Hardly," she said witheringly. He smiled, lips curving upwards, a cold smile.

"The man in the final test," he said, and she froze. "This is the true love you're fighting for?" She nodded curtly, and he looked thoughtful. "Not what I expected," he mused. "And yet it explains much. You're far more interesting than I first thought, Belle." He said her name warmly, holding it delicately in his mouth, like a lover, and she shuddered. She was still wearing the pink silk nightdress, ripped and torn by broken glass and soaked with her own blood, and she was aware of his gaze on her body. She found that she didn't care too much, and held out her hand, her expression defiant.

"I'll have what I came for," she said clearly, and his smile widened.

"Very well." He pointed at the amulet around her neck, and Belle saw that the gleaming red stone was now set within it. "This is a realm jumper," he explained. "It will allow you to cross worlds three times. It can only be used to transport you between worlds with magic, but I believe that will suit your purposes, yes?"

"Three times," said Belle flatly. "There, back, and there again. You don't think four times would have been more useful?" She folded her arms and raised an eyebrow, and he laughed.

"I'm so sorry you didn't take the first option, child," he said indulgently. "I really would have enjoyed you."

Belle took a step towards him, made sure that she met his eyes with all the anger and revulsion she could muster. "You disgust me." Her voice was cold. "Now, if you don't mind, I have people to save, so if there isn't anything else…"

He smiled again. "I've no doubt we'll meet again in more pleasurable circumstances," he said, his voice warm, and Belle laughed without humour.

"In your dreams!" she said. It was his turn to laugh.

"Oh no, child," he said, with amusement. "In yours." He made her an elaborate bow, and gestured towards the same dark doorway, but the frame around it was now of polished horn, the pattern carved into it had changed to a rising sun, stylised rays jabbing outwards, intertwined with trailing poppies. "I'll see you soon," he added, and Belle limped past him with a scowl.

"Not if I see you first," she said grimly, and staggered through the doorway into blackness.

Belle awoke with a start, seeing Ruby and Leroy gazing down at her anxiously. Ruby's eyes were red from weeping, Leroy had obviously been pacing beside the bed. Belle burst into fresh tears and wept bitterly as Ruby threw her arms around her. Her body was agony; bruises, scratches and cuts covered every inch of her, and she dimly heard Mother Superior telling the others to stand back so that she could be healed. She felt the tingle of magic coursing through her, and the pain faded and disappeared. Her tears slowed as her vision returned, and she felt Ruby's hand on her shoulder.

"Her name was Olivia," she said miserably. Ruby looked puzzled, but simply held her as Belle wept again.

"Did you get it?" asked Leroy gently, and Belle nodded, extricating herself from Ruby's arms and lifting the amulet to show the deep red stone set at its heart.

"It's a realm jumper," she explained, sniffing. "We get three journeys."

"Three?" Leroy frowned. "Wouldn't four make more sense?"

Belle rolled her eyes.

"If you want another one, you can go in there and ask for it!" she snapped, and he held up his hands in a placating gesture.

"When can we use it?" asked Belle.

"Not for a couple of days," said Mother Superior firmly. "You need rest, and lots of it, after what you've been through."

Belle sighed, but nodded. She was exhausted, despite the pain having gone, and felt that she could sleep for a week. She looked at the amulet swinging back and forth below her hand, the red stone blinking in the light.

"So this is it?" asked Ruby, wonderingly. "This will work?"

"This will work," declared Belle, clutching her prize. "We're bringing them home."


End file.
